


Ginny was a Friend of Mine

by BKC_BAM



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Ministry of Magic, Murder Mystery, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War Ball, three part fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-03 09:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11529030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BKC_BAM/pseuds/BKC_BAM
Summary: "We interrupt this regularly scheduled broadcast, I repeat, we interrupt this broadcast to bring you a live report. Ginny Weasley has been murdered."





	1. Ginny was a Friend of Mine

_**Crackle. Fizz.** _

"We interrupt this regularly scheduled broadcast of "Which Witch?", I repeat, we interrupt this broadcast to bring you a live report from The Ministry of Magic's Annual Post-War Commemoration Ball."

"It is utter pandemonium here as more and more Aurors arrive at the scene. Ginny Weasley has been murdered. I repeat, Ginny Weasley, Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies has been murdered – here. Tonight. Her body was found in a hallway close to the festivities."

_**Crackle. Fizz.** _

"All guests are being held under questioning, including her inconsolable mother and the remaining members of the Weasley clan in attendance."

_**Click.** _

* * *

 

 The lights in interrogation room six left an ire glow across the darkened face of its only occupant. His dark hair was thoroughly disheveled, most likely from repetitively running his sweaty palms through it, hoping to calm his nerves.

Gone.

She was gone. He's barley caught site of her lifeless body before being dragged away from the scene of the crime.

Murdered.

The blood rushed to his ears again. Slowly reaching a hand into his right pocket, he fingered the small, velvet box tucked away mere hours earlier.

Tears formed in the inside corners of his newly dimmed green eyes. He was alone again. Harry Potter would forever be the man without a family.

 

* * *

 

A shiver ran up her back at she stared blankly at the grey, padded wall in front of her. Her once-elegant French twist had come loose, leaving a haggard aura about her. How could this have happened? Had she really become so complacent with her life after the war that she simply thought she'd never again lose another friend? Perhaps. At the very least, not one so young.

With her elbows planted firmly on the metal table, Hermione Granger's head fell into her hands once more. Ginny Weasley was gone; her body mangled in some hallway just feet from where Hermione spent the evening grabbing glass after glass of champagne.

Guilt built up inside of her, stomach lurching violently as her thoughts raced.

"I'm going to be sick."

A buzzer rang as the steel door flew open, an Auror rushing in to place a bucket in Hermione's trembling hands. Her bile barely made it inside the bin.

 

* * *

 

"I know my rights! I've been here all day! This is criminal profiling. I want to be released immediately, or you'll be hearing from my attorneys! I keep them on retainer for this reason!" His blonde hair had flopped into his eyes. Attempting to huff it out, he leant back in the metal chair, arms crossed on his chest.

"This is absurd. If I'd killed the little firecracker, do you honestly think I would have stuck around to watch the fireworks? Any normal person would have got the fuck out of there. You imbeciles are looking in the wrong place. But honestly, what surprise is that? The Ministry can't get their shite together. What a fucking surprise! And on tonight of all nights?! Guess you wasted all that money on security, Shacklebolt."

The steel door rattled, the bolt on the other side unlocking. "Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"You have the right to remain silent. Were you aware?"

"I was read my rights when I was dumped in this bloody room by you lot, was I not?"

"Indeed. We suggest you use those rights."

"I beg your pardon."

"Shut your ungodly trap, Malfoy." The door slammed with a thud, the lock clicking back into place.

"Oh FUCK OFF!"

 

* * *

 

Her cheeks, normally so full of life, held the stains of her blackened tears; waves of blonde hair once held perfectly in place were now an uncontrollable mane. She made no move to pull the thin strap of her pale blue dress back up her left shoulder.

Luna was broken.

A noise in the corridor snapped her head to attention, but the footsteps were gone as quickly as they had come. How long had she been locked away in this cold room? Minutes? Hours? The cold she once felt on the back of her arms had numbed into a dull pain, much like the feeling in her chest. Her mind rushed through the events of the evening; a quick flash of a smiling redhead appeared.

Throat suddenly dry, Luna reached for the glass of water left behind by whatever Ministry employee shoved her into interrogation room seven. Her fingers moist with condensation, she slowly brought the glass to her lips. A sob escaped her, and the glass went flying across the room, shattering as it hit the two-way mirror.

 

* * *

 

"Tell me what you want to know. Come on! Just ask. Yeah, she was a friend of mine. More recent but I don't see how any of that concerns you lot. She had a screaming match with Potter out on the promenade. Pouring rain. I told her to wear a bleeding jumper, but she had the audacity to tell me it didn't match her dress. Bleeding pain in the arse she is," his throat caught. "Was, I mean."

He brought his left hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on the table. For a moment the room was completely silent. Taking a deep breath, Blaise brought his eyes up to meet the interrogators.

"I – um. I loved her. I was going to tell her tonight…Before her fight with Potter. I thought she deserved to know."

 

* * *

 

"You bloody arseholes, let me out of here right now! She's my sister dammit; there's no motive for this crime!"

His fists banged against the door once more. His hair was up on all ends from the numerous times he'd run his fingers through it since being locked away in interrogation room five.

Pacing the floor, he hoped the ugly varnish wore off by the time they released him. His sister, his BABY sister, gone. Anger roared inside of him once more at the thought of her. Before the guards had a chance to come in and restrain him, Ron's fist collided with the two-way mirror – the glass spider webbing on impact.

He didn't even blink as he watched the blood trickle down his hand.

 

* * *

 

Her body shook, her eyes never leaving the wall in front of her. She couldn't remember the last time she blinked, the last time she breathed. Was she even still alive?

At the thought, her fingers twitched, just for a moment. The movement caught her eye, bringing her attention down to her blood stained hands. Where had all this blood come from? Was it hers? She didn't remember getting injured. Dropping her eyes to her chest, the once beautiful silver spider silk gown was splattered with red stains. Pansy could feel the tears stinging her eyes; her mind frantically trying to recall what happened. Flashes of red hair blocked her vision.

What had she done to Ginny Weasley?


	2. Midnight Show

**_PART TWO_ **

The glasses clinked together as a silver tray floated by. Champagne had recently become one of her favourite drinks while socialising, granted this event wasn't particularly one of her favourites. None the less, she was sure she'd need something to get through the evening. Bringing the glass to her lips, she sipped delicately, pausing to smile politely at the passing guests.

Once they passed, she let out a small sigh of relief taking another drink. There was a time when Ginny would have squealed in delight at attending an event so formal and connected like this. However, now as she stood in her salmon-coloured dress, hair expertly pulled back from her face, she felt empty and slightly disgusted. What kind of barbaric person celebrates an event such as this?

Scanning the room, it was simple enough to determine who was here to excel themselves forward with the right people and who had once again been forced into attendance. Catching sight of familiar locks of brown, Ginny made her away across the large ballroom. How sad that it had been built for hosting events such as this.

Ginny watched the smile fade from Hermione's lips as her current companion left her alone once more. She took a long pull from the glass in her hand before noticing Ginny. A sad, small smile graced her lips. As Ginny approached her, no words passed between the two women. To be honest, they didn't need to say anything. They knew tonight would be a sombre evening; best get it out of the way.

They stood, backs towards the wall, casting glances around the room. Noticing her glass was already empty, Ginny snagged another from a passing tray, hoping champagne would be strong enough for the evening. It felt like an eternity before she finally spoke.

"Blaise is in love with me." Chocking sounded from the brunette next to her.

"I'm sorry?" Her large brown eyes were glued to Ginny's face; mouth slightly hung open. All Ginny could do was nod her head as she took another drink. "I-Did he tell you?"

Ginny shook her head, eyes still staring out across the ballroom. "He didn't have to. It's as obvious as the nose on my face."

Hermione's voice dropped low, almost to a whisper and she quickly glanced around. "Does Harry know?"

Bobbing her head up and down, Ginny finally turned towards her. "I think he suspects something is going on. I've explained to him a million times otherwise, but he won't listen. Swears up and down I have to be running around on him," another pull from her glass. "I keep telling him I don't have the time. That I love him and only him, but he won't hear me, Hermione. I don't know what to do. Blaise is the reporter assigned to the team. I feel sorry enough for the bloke; I don't want to get him fired on top of breaking his heart…"

A stiff silence fell between them. Damn, her glass was empty again. Excusing herself and promising to come back, Ginny made her way towards the bar. Thankful that it appeared rather empty, she motioned for the bartender.

"Firewhiskey on the rocks please." She watched as he fixed her drink, depositing it on a small napkin in front of her. The smell greeted her nostrils as a small smile escaped her lips. Yes, this should do just fine.

"Careful there, Weasley. Someone will think you've got a drinking problem." She rolled her eyes as he ordered a drink of his own, settling himself next to her. Determined to ignore his ribbing, she focused her attention once more on the party, eyes searching for his familiar face.

"You won't find him there; you'd have better luck by the windows." Her faced scrunched in confusion, quickly refocusing her attention to the suggested area. She saw no mass of messy black hair but did catch another familiar face. Her eyes lingered for a moment, taking in his strong jaw, impeccable suit, and charming smile.

"He's infatuated with you, you know. Won't shut his ungodly trap about you. Frankly Red, I've had about enough." Her gazed ripped from Blaise; she finally turned to focus on Draco, who it seemed she couldn't get rid of.

"I don't feel like you have much room to talk, Malfoy. I was with her for a good half hour. I don't know how she managed to ignore your burning stare that long." She watched his face pale considerably, and his expression grew hard.

"It would do you well to keep your mouth closed, Weasley. I'd hate to think of Potter getting some heartbreaking news." She matched his glare, eyes growing dark.

"I don't know what you think you know Malfoy, but there is nothing going on between Blaise and I." His eyebrows raised and a smirk grazed his face.

"Then I guess you better watch your back then."

"Is that a threat?" He raised his glass to his lips, drinking the burning liquid down before setting the glass on the bar top.

"Might be best not to find out." With a final smirk and a quick lift of his eyebrows, he disappeared into the crowd. All she could do was stare after him.

"I just hate when things get sticky. Doesn't help keep the inkypuffs away and no one likes an inkypuff. Not good for romance." Ginny's attention turned to the dreamy blonde to her left. Her hair was simple, curled and framing her face perfectly.

"What was that Luna?" There was a beat of silence; Luna continued to stare after Draco, her words cryptic.

"I would just hate for the inkypuffs to come after you, Ginny. I happen to know that Harry doesn't have a great history with them." Her gaze finally fell on Ginny, a shiver creeping up her spine at the woman's words. Had that been a backhanded threat? Not bothering to excuse herself from the suddenly uncomfortable situation, Ginny headed for some air, her drink forgotten on the bar top.

The air was cooler than she thought it would be. Rubbing her arms for warmth, she jumped a bit when she heard a deep voice from behind her.

"What, no jumper for the evening?" His tone was smooth like it always sounded during interviews. Awkward greeting aside, she smiled, turning to face him.

"Would you believe me if I said I couldn't find a single one to match this dress?" She gave a small spin, letting the dress flare out around her legs. He just shook his head at her.

"Only you could think it's a good idea to go out without a proper jumper and in thin straps no less." Blaise was suddenly much closer than he'd been a moment before. He gently tugged on the strap of her dress, lifting it to let it fall back down again. His fingers grazed her skin, sending more goose bumps up her arms.

"Blaise, I…"

"No please, let me say what I need to say, Ginny. I've waited long enough. I need you to know how I…" The patio door flew open, an unamused Pansy glaring towards the pair of them. No one said anything for a moment until she stomped her foot in frustration.

"I will not be ignored, Blaise. I informed you of that when you asked me to attend this horrid event, and I will not tell you again." Her dress hugged her chest snuggly, her assets on full display that evening. It made Ginny sick to her stomach.

"Pansy, I just need a minute…" She sent a steel glare in both of their directions, her foot tapping impatiently on the pavement.

"Well? Hurry up then!" Crossing both arms over her chest, it was clear she had no intention of giving Blaise the privacy he had hoped for.

"I, uh – well." He stammered, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. "We'll talk some other time, Ginny."

Blaise's eyes were downcast as he turned to leave; she could tell this was not how he'd expected this encounter to go. Ginny found she had to avert her eyes from the murderous glare Pansy sent in her direction before roughly pulling the door shut behind her.

Letting out a heavy breath, she leant her weight on the stone railing. She basked in the moment of silence, her thoughts racing while trying to recall each peculiar conversations from earlier that evening.

The door clicked shut behind her. Still leaning on the railing, she turned her head over her shoulder, finally seeing Harry for the first time in what feels like hours. Her face lit up, a smile beginning to grace her lips until she noticed the dark look in his eyes.

"Harry, what's-"

"Do you love him?" His voice was as dark as his eyes. She jumped a little as an icy drop of water landed on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry – "

"So it's true then?" interrupted Harry. "That garbage I heard Malfoy spitting to anyone that'll listen."

He advanced on her slowly, the cold rain washing over as she soon realised she had nowhere left to step back.

"Harry, no! I love you! There's no one else." He reached her now, his hands resting on either side of her, effectively boxing her in while the rain poured down – no longer in small drops but instead massive pellets. Her dress was soaked through, but he didn't seem to notice as he looked deeper into her eyes.

She'd never seen him like this.

"Harry, please. Honest. I love you! Blaise doesn't mean anything to me." She watched his arms tense at Blaise's name. She knew this was neither the time nor place, but Harry didn't seem to care.

"I won't have you make a fool of me, Ginny. Not again." Her doe-eyed look faded quickly. Again? She shoved her hands hard into his chest, successfully putting space between them.

"I will not be spoken to like this Harry Potter! I don't give a damn how special you think you are! I've told you the truth now back off!" She hadn't meant to shout, but it seemed he finally came to his senses about where they currently were. Shaking her head, her shoulder bumped into his as she headed back towards the ballroom. She would not cry here.

Ginny didn't care about the trail of water she left behind as she made her way across the ballroom to the loos. The goose bumps would soon fade from her arms, she hoped.

"Damn Blaise and his stupid mouth."

She collided suddenly with another body and had to restrain herself from letting out a sigh. Why now? Why?

"Oh, Ron! Where have you been all evening?" Looking a little worse for wear, Ron's hair was sticking out in all directions, as if he'd spent the entire evening running his long fingers through it. His tie was loose, granted she'd never known him to be very good at tying them in the first place, and his robe hung slightly off one shoulder. As soon as he opened his mouth, her nostrils burned at the smell of whisky on his breath.

"Dear Merlin, Ronald. Did you drink the entire bar?"

His reply slurred, and she has a hard time making out his sloppy speech. She swore she'd heard Hermione's name, but she couldn't quite place the other. She tried once more to ask; his reply again made little sense. Deciding to give up, Ginny began to sidestep him and make a break towards the loo, but Ron's arm flew out across her chest.

"Ron, please. I've just had a fight with Harry. I can't do this with you now." His ears perk up at the mention of Harry's name.

"What do you mean a fight?"

At last – words she understood. Ginny sighed, still not wanting to deal with Ron's intrusive questions. Not now anyway.

"It's none of your business, Ron. Now let me go!" Raising her voice slightly, she pulled herself from his arms and continued on her way, tears threatening to fall once more.

Hoping to find the loo empty, the vision she met with made Ginny grimace. She should have known she'd have no such luck on a night like tonight. Pansy's reflection saw her as soon as she opened the door. There was no turning back now.

She gave a slight sniffle, trying to cover it up, but she knew by Pansy's scoff and the smirk on her face, she failed.

"Trouble in paradise, Weasley? Everyone knew you were going to fuck up with Potter one of these days; it was only a matter of time." She turned her eyes back towards the mirror, carefully reapplying some awful shade of lipstick to her too small lips. "But I do have to give you some credit. You lasted longer than I thought you would. Plus, shacking up with a catch like Blaise on the side? Not too shabby, Weasley."

Ginny's fists tightened as she clenched and unclenched her hands.  _Stay calm, don't let her bother you._

"Of course, I'd watch your back though, Weasel. Not everyone takes so kindly to a cheater." The tears couldn't be held back now. At least they were streaming silently down her cheeks. Clearly, Pansy had said her last words; her attention once again focused on her own reflection in the mirror.

She had to get out of here. Screw the gala. She'd had enough. Pulling open the door, she made her way back down the hallway in search of the floo when all of a sudden, everything went black.


	3. Leave the Bourbon on the Shelf

**_PART THREE_ **

It was dark, he was sure of it. No matter that he hadn't seemed to notice the bright light creeping out from behind the closed curtains. Nothing mattered much anymore. She was gone, leaving him with a hole in his heart and a burn in his stomach. When had he last eaten? No matter, whiskey seemed to be the best alternative for food as of late.

The bottle felt light in his hand. With a roar of frustration, he downed the few remaining drops and tossed the empty across the living room. He'd passed out in the chair again. Lovely.

He reached for the  _"fone"_  Hermione had given him months ago. He had never really gotten used to the small device, and his blurred vision wasn't helping his struggle. Her name finally appeared highlighted as he scrolled through the contact list. Pressing the little green symbol, he waited. It rang twice before her voice came over the line.

_"Hello, this is Hermione. I'm not able to take your call, but if you leave a message, I'll get back to you as soon as possible."_  He threw the phone before it even managed to beep. Damn her! They were meant to be together. Sure, she'd called this separation a 'break', but more and more of her things had gone missing from their bedroom and she'd promised they would still talk.

He hadn't heard from her in over a week.

He'd asked her to attend the gala with him. She'd been reluctant to answer him. He hadn't meant to grab her arms so hard while he waited for her answer. Honest. He'd just had too much to drink at lunch. He hadn't meant to make her cry in the restaurant.

He certainly hadn't meant to follow her out into the alley after she stormed off; the look in her eyes, the breaking of her heart, he didn't put it there. He couldn't have. He tried again to tell her how much he loved her. How she was everything to him. How she put the stars in the sky. Her brown locks bounced as she shook her head. She tried to tell him that she couldn't do this anymore – that she didn't love him anymore. He just drowned her out, screaming over and over for her to stay, not to leave him, that he  _loved_  her.

She told him it was too late.

He'd certainly show her.

Dressing was a struggle. He'd been unable to locate his wand, the tie on his chest was a sloppy knot. In his eyes, his robes matched his shoes. The powder fell slowly through his hands as he tossed it into the fireplace. The whirl was enough to make him vomit; which he promptly did as soon as the world stopped spinning.

Grabbing a glass from the first passing tray, his nose scrunched at the taste. He downed the contents and headed for the bar instead.

"Bourbon, neat." The bartender looked at him as if he'd spoken a foreign language. Damn Hermione and her request to have a flat in muggle London. "Firewhiskey, please."

A knowing nod passed his way, and a glass slid across the counter. The contents disappeared in seconds. Two fingers on the rim with a double tap and the glass once again filled. Setting the empty glass down with a roll of his neck, he turned, taking in the occupants of the ballroom for the first time. A dull music filled his ears from the far side. From the muffled noise pounding in his ears, he'd determined the band wasn't very good.

He was raising the glass to his lips once again when he caught an unusual sight. It was her laughter that drew his attention; he'd know that pleasant sound anywhere. He, however, had not expected to find her conversing so easily with  _HIM_ _._

That smug look on his face, his stupid pointed chin and his ridiculously pale skin; it was enough to make the glass in his hand shake. It didn't matter that they parted soon after, to any sane person, would be nothing more than a friendly goodbye. He'd seen enough.

He downed his remaining drink, turned back to the bar and scoped up an unfamiliar glass. The woman let out a shriek in protest, but her words went unheard. Finishing the fruity cocktail as well, his eyes were set on Hermione once again. He lost her within the crowd, suddenly feeling as if the room had gotten ten times larger and his bearings became shakier with each forward step taken.

He'd just gotten himself turned around when someone collided with his chest. He was surprised when the hair in his line of sight was so familiar.

"Oh, Ron! Where have you been all evening?"

His response was slow. Ron's vision blurred as he tried hard to focus on her pupils, trying to determine why and when Ginny went from having two eyes to six. He opened his mouth to ask her just that when he found himself interrupted.

"Dear Merlin, Ronald. Did you drink the entire bar?"

A frown graced his lips. Who did she think she was talking to him like that? Didn't she know the pain he was feeling? Didn't she care that his life was falling apart in front of his very eyes?

"Her'ione. I sab het…." His speech slurred as he tried to tell Ginny what he'd seen, hoping she would tell him that she saw it too and that he wasn't crazy.

"What Ron? I can't understand a word you're saying."

Once again he tried to tell her, gesturing wildly with his hands in the direction he thought Hermione was in. He watched as she looked him up and down and then attempted to step around him. He wasn't ready for her to leave yet. He needed answers. She could provide those for him. Sticking his arm out, he stopped her before she could get away.

"Ron, please. I've just had a fight with Harry. I can't do this with you now."

That had suddenly caught his attention.

"What do you mean a fight?" His eyes darkened as he peered down at her. Harry was his best friend; he couldn't wait to have him as a true brother and Ginny was his only chance at that. He wouldn't allow her to sully that up.

"It's none of your business, Ron. Now let me go!" He was caught a little off guard as she ripped herself from his grip. He stared after her.

"Was that Ginny you were just talking to?" Harry seemed to be out of breath as he approached, leaning one arm on Ron's shoulder as the other clutched his side. Ron couldn't seem to manage more than a stare back at him. Green eyes shinned with concern, catching a whiff of the alcohol on Ron's breath.

"Everything alright there, Ron?" All he received was a shrug in response. Seemingly back to normal, Harry straightened out his tie.

"Was that Hermione I saw earlier talking with Malfoy? I thought for sure she'd need a break from him after that Ling case together." Ron tilted his head to the side, questioning Harry's words.

"She told you about it right? I mean, how could she not? She's only been complaining about him for weeks. Wasn't too pleased when she was assigned that project."

Project? Weeks? Hermione hadn't mentioned a word to her about Malfoy. Harry, oblivious to Ron's internal struggle, continued on for a few moments before noticing Ron had tuned out.

"Ron? Did you hear me mate?"

With a shake of his head, his eyes focused once again on Harry.

"I said, you don't think Ginny is seeing Zabini do you? I want to believe her – you know I do. But the rumours…" He looked down sheepishly at the floor. "They really put a strain on things, you know?"

His sister, his baby sister, was seeing Zabini behind his best mates back? He thought it over, trying to recall seeing them together. Well, he'd certainly seen them together multiple times. Every time Ginny had a game, besides her teammates, Zabini was the first person she'd talk to. He could remember seeing her toasting with him at after parties – hearing him wish her a special good luck before games.

How could she do this? How could  _Hermione_  do this? How could they both betray everything they'd sworn to cherish and keep forever. How dare they betray him? Harry.  _Everything_. Lying, cheating, unfaithful little –

"Fuck this."

All Ron could see was red.

"What? Hey, where are you going?"

He didn't bother giving Harry any parting words. He had to get to the bottom of this. The two women he trusted, that he loved the most were turning into harlots before his eyes. He would stop this.

He swore he'd seen her walk towards this direction. He listened for footsteps but heard nothing but the lolls of distant voices coming from the party. Leaning up against a wall, he took in the interesting figurine settled in one of the alcoves. His fingers traced the marble, seemingly entranced.

He heard crying. It was gradually growing louder. The echo of heels on the stone floor reverberated around him; his eyes caught a flash of red hair as she rushed by.

"Ginny!"

She kept walking.

"GINNY!"

Still nothing.

"Dammit Ginny listen to me!"

He didn't know how his wand had moved from his pocket into his hand, and he barely recalled  _Wingardium Leviosa_ leaving his lips. The crack of the statue hitting the back of her skull though and the dull thud her body made when it hit the stone floor, he was sure that would never leave his memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so a little back story for you here. I knew that I wanted Ginny to be my victim. It fit with the theme of the Murder Trilogy by The Killers that this is loosely based on. What I didn't know is who I wanted to be the killer. So everyone's names went into a name wheel and away I spun. It was quite the challenge but I'm very happy with the outcome. Thanks for reading.
> 
> -BKC


End file.
